"Master of the five Magics" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hardy Lyndon)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Moltenrock Treasure

ALODAR panted up to Saxton's storefront too out of breath to shout his return. He entered and swung around the counter and into the workroom. As he dashed through the doorway, he stubbed his toe on a plank jutting in the way and his eyes widened in surprise. The shelves and cabinets lay tumbled to the floor in a vast clutter. Alodar stepped cautiously through the rubble, knee high in splintered wood and broken glass. The air stank of a mixture of odors from ruptured containers and he could not see a familiar sight in the confusion.

He walked slowly forward, scanning the floor, each step accompanied by the pop and crack of additional small destruction. The large cabinet from the south wall blocked his path. As he surveyed a way around, he saw a single pudgy hand thrust from underneath its heavy oaken boards.

Alodar quickly stooped and heaved the box off the fallen alchemist, who lay face down in the tangle on the floor.

"Saxton," he shouted as he rolled the brown-robed figure over. "What happened? What happened here? Are you whole or hurt?"

Saxton stirred slightly and opened his eyes to the noise. He frowned and focused with difficulty, small trickles of blood oozing from his mouth and the many small cuts on his face.

"Alodar," he stumbled out softly. "Alodar, by the laws, it worked. It worked not once but twice. As I said, the random factors aligned and both of the flasks produced safe ointment. The chance of an alchemist's lifetime and I had it succeed twice."

"But what happened here, Saxton?" Alodar persisted.

"Rendrac," Saxton said, and then he began to cough uncontrollably, throwing up great quantities of clotted blood. Alodar looked quickly about and spied a pottery jug still unbroken on a high shelf. He fetched it and, cradling the alchemist's head, gave him a small drink of water.

"Yes, Alodar," Saxton continued after a moment. "The luck of a lifetime is often balanced in this perverse world. The factors aligned, but Rendrac could not give us the slightest chance of success thereafter. While you journeyed to Cedric's, he returned here just as the contents of the second flask transmuted into a form safe to the touch. I thrust them into the clutter as be entered, but this body was not meant to withstand the warrior's pain. He pummeled me as well as the shop, and finally I had to tell him where they were."

"You did as well as you were able, Saxton," Alodar said as he looked about the room. Anger began to boil. "I will pursue and give Rendrac his due. We shall recover the ointment yet and your treasure as well."

"It is too late for that, my lad," Saxton said, beginning to breathe with difficulty. "I have studied the inner organs of animals enough to guess what has happened to me. I am not to partake of any of the jewels of the mountains."

He stopped, and a deep sigh rattled through his lungs. "But then neither will Basil have his way," he continued. "Two successes with a caloric shield! It is enough for any alchemist."

"Sweetbalm, or perhaps thaumaturgy," Alodar said. "We have quested, Saxton, you and I. Do not falter when the goal is in sight."

"All the balms were destroyed in the mess." Saxton waved one arm in a feeble arc over his head. "Think no more of me. Flee instead while you can. Basil will receive enough from Rendrac's trip into the heart of the mountains to care little for the service of a novice."

"Rendrac braves the heat?" Alodar asked.

"Yes, he anointed himself with the full contents of one flask as I looked on helplessly," Saxton replied. "When he was done, he resembled less a man than a silver demon, the coating did shine so. And the second batch he crushed underfoot and rubbed its precious salve into the muck he already had made. The other two flasks on the roof were destroyed as well, I fear, when he tossed all the gear to the earth in his rage to find the ointment."

Saxton resumed his coughing. As Alodar offered him another sip of water, he waved it aside. He hacked on for several moments more and then, in one giant convulsion, arched his back with a final gasp. He fell limp into Alodar's arms, staring at the ceiling with unblinking eyes and saying no more.

For a moment Alodar held him in silence and then lowered him gently to the door. He stood up and ran his eyes aimlessly around the clutter. He remembered Saxton as he had first seen him preparing the nerve elixir, struggling with his craft but free of the doom which finally claimed him.

It was the formula, the quest that had turned him from what he had done so well. Had Alodar not come to his door, he would be tinkering here still, not breathing his last trying to defend a treasure he probably did not know how to spend.

Alodar slowly let out his breath and looked out the window into the night. "But by the laws, it is done," he said. "There is nothing in my knowledge of the crafts to bring him back."

He pulled the small packet of salamander skin out of a pocket and tossed it into the clutter. And now that the alchemist has finished, what of the novice? What Saxton had said was true enough. If Alodar disappeared now, Basil would see little profit in tracking him down. And so little time remained before dawn that the chance of finding gemstones to redeem his future was impossibly small.

Alodar wiggled his head and tried to shake out the fatigue. But if he were honor bound to aid Saxton in life, then the vengeance was his as well, he thought. No matter that safety lay in the opposite direction from the mountains. He must track Rendrac there, regardless of the consequences. And the fair lady-a treasure for her he must have as well.

He gave Saxton one final pat and rose with his jaw set in a determined line. "Rest easy, alchemist," he said. "Rest easy for I will continue on." He paused and then pulled his face into a bittersweet smile. "We quest, do we not?"

He shook his head to clear the feelings and, for the third tune, surveyed the wreckage scattered about. As he scanned from wall to wall, the torchlight reflected into his eyes from the shards of glass and plates of metal on the floor. Then he caught a glimmer subtly different from the rest, silvery and opalescent, from a small bead in the midst of the litter.

"The ointment, surely," Alodar said half aloud. "Perhaps Saxton's second flask will serve its purpose as well as the first." He stooped and extended his gloved index finger into the small drop. It parted sluggishly and formed a pool around his fingertip, dense like mercury but affinitive like water.

Alodar put forward his other hand and gently stroked the drop up the side of his finger. The ointment followed, leaving a thin layer of shimmering silver. Heartened, he quickly worked the rest of the salve onto his hand, kneading it around to fill all the cracks and crevices of the glove. When he was done, his entire hand was covered; when rotated in the torchlight, it gave off a soft silvery glow.

Alodar looked around the floor, carefully righting equipment and pushing aside the rubble as he went. He found a second small bead and then another; with each he repeated the same slow process of transferring it to his body. In an hour, both his arms were covered; in another two, his legs and the front of his torso. He rummaged through the wreckage, found a sliver of a mirror, and then carefully covered his back with a small stick and the droplets he found nearby. As he discovered more and more of the ointment, the search for the rest took longer. The moon touched the horizon as he finished his face and eyes. One part of his mind cried for haste, to strike out after Rendrac before his headstart became too great, before all the time was wasted in preparation. But the balance argued caution, and he continued his methodical search and application. He had begun to despair of finding yet more salve when he discovered a bead in the corner, evidently arched high over the intervening floor by Rendrac's shattering stomp.

He deftly scooped up the globule and rolled it around his palm, hesitating as he watched it skitter about. Saxton had said nothing about the internal effects, but what he must do was a logical necessity. Shrugging his shoulders, he popped the droplet into his mouth and began to swish it around. His tongue glazed and his lungs acquired that tickly feeling he had bad as a sick child. He exhaled forcefully and felt his nasal passages coat up as well.

He held his hands before his eyes, turning them from side to side, watching for telltale signs of spots with no protection. The stuff was spread too thin, he suspected. How could such a meager layer protect him from the heat of the mountain?

He stepped into the rubble and flipped open a small strongbox. Reaching inside, he scooped up the handful of coins that remained. Four coppers?all that was left of Saxton's wealth. Barely enough for the rental of a horse to take him to the Fumus Mountains.

Alodar raced his mount into the midst of the torchlights and jumped from the saddle. The horse stomped forward into the circle of miners taking their morning meal. On his left, Alodar recognized the circular hole where the gas bubble had burst through the mountainside. At his feet were picks, torches, iron strapped chests, and piles of small leather pouches, mixed with the pockmarked rock littering the gently sloping hillside. Straight ahead, rising from a silken mattress spread over the rough ground, was Basil the apothecary. Alodar glanced at the pale glow forming in the east and quickly drew his sword.

"You come a trifle early to pay your debt, novice," Basil said as he recognized the intruder. "And in so theatrical a manner. I am a reasonable man and would have allowed you the hour remaining."

"Rendrac?where is he?" Alodar snapped. "He has an obligation to pay to Saxton as well."

"The alchemist is no longer bound," Basil said. "I do not fault a man if he changes his mind, so long as his last decision is the correct one. And having Rendrac coated in the caloric shield is payment enough for what Saxton owed. I do not mind assuming whatever risk resides in the depths of the mountain. Full share is far better than a part."

He stopped and shredded a piece of parchment into the air. "See, the contract is concluded," he said.

"If the ointment was satisfaction enough," Alodar spat, "then why did you direct Rendrac to take his life as well?"

Basil knitted his brow. "Saxton's life," he said, puzzled. "I know not of what you speak. I would not order Rendrac to such an extreme measure, for what could it profit me to do so? Saxton dead is of no value whatsoever. Alive he either repays in goods or with labor. No, I may covet the products of his craft but I have no use for his life.'"

Alodar stared into Basil's eyes and hesitated. It might be true, he thought. Basil's control over Rendrac did not seem absolute. He tightened the grip on his sword and looked quickly around the group of miners slowly creeping back to form a circle around the two. He glanced into the opening into the mountainside and made up his mind.

"Then where is Rendrac?" he asked. "It is he that I will deal with first."

Basil looked to either side and signaled for his men to converge even closer. "He is already into the mountain," he said, "but that should be no concern of yours. Saxton was freed of his contract, but unless you have the brandels then you are still bound to my will. Put down your sword and submit. I will even let you stay and see with us what Rendrac brings from the depths below."

Alodar cast quick glances to either side and took one step backward. "It is not quite dawn. Until then I am still a free man."

"An exercise in futility," Basil said as he motioned his men forward. "If you do not have payment now, how can you hope to within the hour?"

"I will discuss it with Rendrac." Alodar suddenly turned and scrambled up the lip of the opening. He tumbled over into the passageway and spun around with his sword still pointing forward. Two miners appeared over the edge and then hesitated as Alodar flicked his blade back and forth in challenge.

"Oh, let him go." Basil laughed. "He will return soon enough, begging for water. Or if not, Rendrac will spot the body on his way out and we will dispose of it later."

Alodar did not bother to reply, but turned and headed into the bowels of the mountain. He followed what seemed to be the same tunnel he had traversed before, torchlit and sharply sloping downwards. He raced past the side passage in which he had bartered with Basil, and the line of torches led him onward for three hundred paces more. He ripped the last source of light from the wall and dipped through a small opening into the blackness that extended beyond.

The path tumbled and pitched as he slowly progressed, occasionally opening up to impressive heights and then narrowing down to slits to be traversed on hands and knees. But each step led him generally downward; and with each, Alodar felt the increasing discomfort of stillness and heat.

Suddenly the pathway opened wide into a larger tunnel that sloped even more forcefully into the mountain's interior. Alodar looked up at the roof, fully three times his height and could see bright spots of light from cracks that led to the surface. He held his torch to the floor, illuminating the smooth and hardened rock that had confined an ancient upward thrust of heat-laden gas.

Alodar looked down the direction of the tunnel's path and saw a dull glow in the receding blackness. He thrust his torch forward and picked up a small dot of light far ahead. He watched for a second to make sure it moved, then ran to follow, his footfalls echoing loudly down the passageway.

Apparently alerted by the noise, the bearer of the light stopped and waited for Alodar to get closer. The dot resolved into a torch, its light reflected from the gleaming ointment of Rendrac the warrior.

"Sweetbalm. you are indeed a nuisance." Rendrac's voice resounded through the cavern. "But, I see, a dimwitted one at that. If you come no more protected than that dull sheen indicates, I need worry about you only a few steps further."

"The ointment protects me as well as it does you," Alodar shot back. "I feel only a little discomfort and could survive with even less if I had to."

Rendrac responded with a booming laugh. "Oh could you now, novice? How well do you think you are protected now? Try your spittle on the rock before you answer."

Alodar wrinkled his brow, but complied. To his surprise, his saliva hissed and foamed and in an instant was gone.

"Yes," Rendrac continued, "the meager ointment you have protects you well enough now. But if you have any sense, you would turn back to save your flesh from baking."

Rendrac whipped his free hand about with a flourish and then placed it firmly against the wall. A blur of fine mist spewed from the contact in much the same way as the spittle had from the rock. "The ointment also evaporates in response to the heat," Rendrac continued. "I am well anointed and presently feel not even your discomfort. I shall be able to descend much farther into the depths of the mountain, but that thin coating of yours will be gone in a trice."

Rendrac laughed again and turned to continue his downward march with an easy stride, small tendrils of vapor rising from where his boots touched the hot rock-bed.

Alodar breathed deeply in defiance and then immediately regretted the act, coughing back the harsh volcanic gases into the humid air. He pressed forward after Rendrac, dimly aware of pinpoints of heat in his boots where the nails joined the heels to the soles.

Downward they went, following the tunnel's gentle turns, shining torches high to illuminate the smooth and featureless walls. Alodar stepped rapidly, trying to keep up with Rendrac's easy gait. Concentrating on closing the gap, he struggled to shut out the growing discomfort and feeling that his strength and clearheadedness were ebbing away.

They trudged on in silence for many minutes, Alodar some ten yards behind and unable to draw closer. The walls echoed the methodical rhythm of their step as they placed feet firmly against the downward slope of the tunnel. The cavern of smooth and unweathered rock loomed high and wide about them, majestic in its size. Like the intestine of some giant monster, it undulated forward into the very center of the mountain.

As they continued, Alodar suddenly caught another gleam of light reflected back from his torch.

Before he could act Rendrac cried out in recognition. "The first one! By the staves, it alone makes the whole journey worthwhile," he said. He stopped, reached on tiptoe to the tunnel's high wall, and deftly wrested a gem from the matrix which held it

"A topaz of at least thirty carats," Rendrac exclaimed as he dropped it into a silvery pouch hung at his side and resumed his pace. Almost immediately, he shouted again, "More sparkles. Just look at them! Sapphires, emerald's, aquamarines, bulging from the walls like the warts on the face of a crone. I doubt if a pickaxe is even needed for them." In a hastened effort, he began wrenching the jewels from the bedrock, excitedly advancing further into the depths for still bigger stones that blinked back his torchlight.

Alodar exerted himself to plunge after, now that Rendrac was slowed with his gathering, but his limbs responded sluggishly to his will. Small pains began to shoot through his lips; when he held them apart, the interior of his mouth ached for them to be shut again. Eyes darting about, he spied a small stone that Rendrac had missed and hastily reached out to snare it. With a start, he dropped it to the cavern floor, fingers stinging from the hasty contact. He spread his hands as he had done before he left Ambrosia. The opalescent shine was still there, but now barely noticeable against the fabric background that it covered.

Alodar turned to pursue Rendrac with plodding steps, each one an effort that barely kept pace with his adversary's slower meander back and forth across the tunnel's breadth. He saw Rendrac stop, pant, and catch himself as he almost wiped his brow. Alodar's own eyes watered and ached, and each breath brought fresh pain when he inhaled.

They rounded a sharp corner, and Alodar noticed that he could see farther ahead than the sphere of light provided by his torch. In the distance, a bright red glow filled the cavern floor, and the reflections bounced back and forth off the walls. Beneath the sharp echo of Rendrac's boots, he heard what sounded like a creamy ointment bubbling in a cauldron.

Rendrac looked at the soft background lighting, back to Alodar's torch, and then extinguished his own. He tied shut the third small pouch crammed to overflowing at his waist. With a grin, he snapped open a large sack that hung to the floor. Picking the jewels from the walls and dropping them inside, he continued onward.

They drew nearer the glowing redness until it filled the tunnel with its light Alodar extinguished his own torch and let it hang at his side, no longer needing it to show his way. With a dull realization, he saw that the glow came from a pond of molten rock lapping the floor some hundred yards ahead. The liquid nearest them was placid, but farther on Alodar squinted into a violent frothing of reds and yellows that shot brilliant sprays to the very top of the cavern, melting rock where it struck and tumbling giant stones into its midst. Further back, the tunnel roof glowed amber as it blended into the level of the lava. They could advance no further.

"The biggest prizes yet," Rendrac called out, panting down to the very lip of the lake of lava. There in a crystalized border around the pool, like the icing on a cake, massive gems sparkled in the glow. The smaller stones were the size of cherries and the largest as big as a man's fist. Rendrac lowered his pouch to the ground with its mouth gaping open and shoveled the jewels inside. Like a garden keeper removing autumn leaves, he methodically moved around the edge of the lake, raking in the treasure.

He finished stuffing his sack and bound it shut as Alodar came closer, wobbling on each step, his eyes glazed into an unblinking stare. Rendrac opened a second bag; holding it low to the ground, he tried batting the larger gems into the folds with his gloved fingers. His eyes raced over the jewels strewn about, disdaining those which were less than a baron's ransom. He looked out over the pool, stopped his collection, and hesitated.

"It will be enough," he said. "I need not test the ointment that far." Returning to the first sack, he wrapped the drawstrings around his wrist and then slowly pulled it over his shoulder. He staggered slightly as the heavy weight thumped against his back, grasped the second bag firmly, and started to return in Alodar's direction.

This would be his chance, Alodar thought dumbly. With painful slowness he forced his hand down to the scabbard at his side and winced as he tightened his grip on the hilt

Rendrac saw the motion and laughed. Without a word, he stopped, slowly balancing his weight on one foot and then kicking out with the other at Alodar's stomach. Alodar saw the boot rising but his reactions were too dulled to respond. With his sword only six inches from the scabbard, he felt the blow strike home. As he crashed to the tunnel floor, Rendrac swept by, leaving him to regain his breath and scramble to his feet alone.

Alodar sloughed aside the effects of the kick, but his palms and the soles of his feet felt burned, and the rest of his body ached with protest from the heat. He tried to lick the roof of his mouth with his tongue, but it lay flaccid and no moisture would come. He should have been disappointed that Rendrac was gone, but the heat dulled his will to care. He looked dimly forward to where the large jewels had been and saw no more. Only the smaller gems that the warrior had left lay scattered about the edge of the undulating pool of lava.

Like an enchanted harvester, he stiffly lumbered forward and dropped a dozen small stones into the pouch at his side. He looked uncomprehendingly at the wealth at his feet, back up the passageway, and then across the sea of molten rock.

As he scanned the bright red liquid, he saw what Rendrac had chosen not to investigate, a small dark speck bobbing in the fiery waves. He squinted his eyes against the light to see what it was.

"A chest," he gasped. "Much smaller than the largest of the jewels, but a chest nonetheless." He hesitated as he watched the small box bob on the slowly rolling surface, trying to remember why he was there.

He looked again at the chest. It might be the means for his freedom?and the treasure for the fair lady. The quests were still intertwined.

He hesitated for another moment, trying to anticipate the shock of contact, but his thoughts fused together in a sludge. He shrugged his shoulders and took a first step towards the very edge of the pool and then another.

The pain coursed through his palms and he felt the burning sensation creep down the nape of his neck and onto his back. He tried to shut his mind to the protests of his body and plod on to the edge. He concentrated only on raising one foot and extending it in front of the other. His supporting leg trembled with each step. His gait became a simple shuffle, each pace bringing him only inches closer to his goal. Finally he stood by the edge of the pool, feeling the angry waves of heat rise and bake his chest and thighs. He hesitated and then reached down into the lava to retrieve the small container from where it floated.

His hand screamed anew, not only skin but muscle and bone feeling the energy penetrate deep. Waves of heat pulsated up his arm and into his body. His flesh seemed to sear and his vital fluids boil as the feeling ripped through him. Alodar somehow ignored the pain and, clasping the small box as firmly as he could, he rose to stand erect.

The pain throbbed for several minutes more, and then was replaced by a deep numbness that ran the length of his arm. There was nothing left to stay for, he thought finally, and he turned and started to climb the tunnel to safety.

With great effort, he placed one foot up the incline and then followed with the other. Far more slowly than he bad descended, he struggled upward. His consciousness slid nearly away as visions of Iron Fist, Saxton's shop, Cedric's courtyard, Aeriel and the angry red walls hallucinated before him. To the small amount of reason that remained, it seemed that retreating from the heat should bring relief, but nothing seemed to change.

On and on he staggered, focusing only on the floor, not knowing if each step would be his last, and dimly not even caring. One weaving stride followed another up the passageway, and Alodar could not think clearly enough to recognize any of the natural features he had passed on the way down. After a countless number of steps, he began to realize that his torch was again of use and the fiery lava no longer lighted his way.

Some time later the pain lessened as he climbed, but he could not take heart, so weary were his limbs and lungs from the punishment they had received. His breath was forced, and every muscle throbbed from its abuse. Eventually the slope became less steep, but Alodar did not notice as he continued to plod onward. He saw the light flickering along the wall and he followed the guide-posts upward. Finally he looked forward and blinked at a large patch of rosy blue directly ahead, beckoning to him with whiffs of fresh air.

Alodar threw one leg over the lip of the opening and pulled himself out of the tunnel. Sliding down the outside of the slope, he tumbled into an exhausted heap in the midst of Basil's camp.

He looked slowly about and saw Basil on his knees in front of two large chests with their lids thrown open. The apothecary brought his hands upwards, filled with gems, and then let the jewels spill through his fingers. About ten paces behind, Rendrac stood, holding a large pole horizontally across his chest and pushing back the excited miners straining for a glimpse of the treasure.

"You return," Basil said looking up from his play. "By the laws, you return." He looked quickly about the camp and then to the horizon. He turned back to Alodar with a smile. "Yes, you return," he said, "just in time to begin your lifetime of service."

Alodar sighed wearily and looked up into the first rays reaching over the horizon. "My contract is not yet completed," he said as he set the small chest aside and fumbled into the pouch at his waist. He grabbed a few of the small stones and flung them across the ground. "With these gems, you are more than paid in full." He looked down at the chest and reached into the bag again. "And a fee for the rest since it is by your tunnels I obtained the treasure that is totally mine."

Basil looked at the small jewels scattered at his feet and then down at Alodar's side. "Well said, novice," he replied. "You as well as your master Saxton have a spirit I would love to break. But I am not a man for grudges. Give me that interesting item you extracted from the depths and you leave a free man, with whatever remains in your pouch, as well."

"You have already been paid," Alodar said. "You have no just claim to anything more."

Basil looked quickly about the camp. "Perhaps I do not," he admitted, "but then Rendrac is not so principled as I. His impulses cannot always be controlled, although when he apologizes to me with small gifts such as these, all is forgiven," He again ran his hands through the chests and motioned Rendrac forward with a wave. "Take the small chest," he ordered. "The treasure from the depths. I want it all."

"Well enough," Rendrac growled, stepping forward. "Let us see what this novice can do without a protector standing at his side." With a frown of irritation, he wiggled both arms stiffly in a shimmer of opalescence in the rays of the rising sun. He grimaced and reached up to pull at his cheek, frowning with the effort.

Alodar struggled to his feet and tried to force his senses alert. He looked at the giant striding forward and he sighed with his fatigue. "Cedric says that you will not win unless you think that you can," he muttered, but other thoughts brushed his concentration aside. For months he had received less than a good night's sleep, and in the past day none at all. Whatever energy he had left seemed boiled away in the depths of the mountain. His arms and legs were no more than dead limbs on a burnt-out tree, hollowed to the core. And Rendrac had pummeled him into the corner of Saxton's shop with ease when he was fresh and alert. What chance had he now? But it was for vengeance he had come, and it must be seen through to the end.

Alodar drew his sword and tensed, ready as he could be. He breathed the sweet air deeply, trying to force life back into his tired limbs as Rendrac unsheathed his blade and slowly swung his arm back for the initial blow.

Alodar dully watched the tip of the sword as it cut through the air in the backward swing and then reversed direction to begin its journey forward. He turned to the side and presented his own sword as guard, wincing in anticipation of the shock of contact. He blinked once, but the blow did not come.

In disbelief, Alodar looked to Rendrac's face and then back to the weapon still in midswing. As Alodar watched, it slowed to a crawl and then stopped motionless.

Almost simultaneously, the big man uttered a weak yelp, and his free hand slowly rose with a spasm of effort from his waist to a mouth held rigidly open under eyes filled with fear. For a second, nothing happened and then, like a silver statue, Rendrac toppled to the ground with a loud clang.

Alodar moved to the prostrate form, its limbs still in the rigid position they had held when erect. He reached out and touched the hand that held the blade and felt a deep coldness, rock-hard and smooth, Alodar struck down with his own sword, pommel first, onto an outstretched rigid arm. The now inert form rang from the contact.

"The ointment," Alodar murmured. "It was meant to be used sparingly and burnt off. Rendrac was too greedy and applied too much. And now it has degraded with age and entrapped him."

Basil's jaw dropped in stunned disbelief, but he recovered and turned to the miners cautiously pressing closer behind. "After him," the apothecary shouted. "His blade can touch but one or two, and we will have his treasure to add to our own as well."

The miners hesitated, and Alodar saw his opportunity. With his last burst of energy, he sprinted forward and tipped over the chests at Basil's feet, sending a cascade of brilliant jewels rolling down the hillside.

The advancing miners paused, then spun around in pursuit of the treasure as it tumbled by. In a moment, they were racing pell-mell after the speeding stones as they fell. Basil hesitated a moment more, eyeing first Alodar and then the gems cascading away.

"Stop, you wretches!" he yelled at last. "Unhand what is rightly the property of Basil the apothecary." The men paid him no heed and raced onward, stooping and picking up the gems as they went.

"Stop, I say!" Basil called out as he pursued, pulling the magic dagger from his belt and waving it high in the air. With a vicious swing, he whacked at the neck of the slowest moving henchman as he stooped, and kicked out at another as he halted to consider which path downward to follow.

In an instant Alodar was alone, with only dim shouts and an occasional cry to break the stillness. He sat wearily down at last to collect his thoughts and decide what to do next.

The sounds grew fainter, and he decided that Basil and the others would not soon return to bother him. He looked about and retrieved from the hillside the small chest he had found and gently cradled it in his hands.

The deeper he went, the bigger had been the gemstones; and this was the deepest of all. Jewels for a royal diadem had been strewn about the cavern floor. What greater treasure must be resting within the confines of this small box? Visions of perfectly cut diamonds bigger than oranges danced in his mind. With a wrench of his knife, he popped open the lid.

He peered inside, and his heart sank in disappointment. Instead of breathtaking jewels, he saw instead two black spheres of volcanic basalt. Six months of effort, back-breaking labor and great risk to his life from the hazards of the formula, the snares of Basil's factories, and finally the furnaces in the center of the mountain; and what did he have to show for it? A few jewels in his pouch and two machined hunks of common rock.

He had pictured himself questing for the fair lady like a hero from the sagas. His deed of daring was to win great treasure and sweep him in front of all others that sought her hand!

He sighed and set the chest to the ground. With his chin slumped he sat inert and unmoving and let the sun climb silently into the sky.

The inn room door creaked open to Alodar's knock, and he looked into the face of Periac, the master thaumaturge.

"Alodar, you have returned," Periac exclaimed. "Come in, come in. You are just in time for an evening's instruction. We will continue from where we left off on the hills that bordered Iron Fist."

Alodar looked wearily around the small bare room and headed for the stool in the corner. "A meal and a night's rest first, master, for which I will fairly pay," he said. "And it is not for knowledge of thaumaturgy that I seek you out."

As Alodar slumped down, Periac reached out to brush the dust off the table with a sweep of his arm. "But I fare quite well in the city," he said. "There is much pot mending and cistern excavation to be done and word of an honest craftsman soon gets around. I can well use a journeyman and you would find your stomach far better filled than when we worked the outlands. I doubt your start with alchemy has fared as well."

Alodar reached for the pouch at his side and placed it on the table. "I have learned a few of the simpler activations and formulas," he replied. "Saxton was most trusting with his craft when we had a rare idle moment together. It is true that I still know more of thaumaturgy. But as for the fruits of my effort, what do you think of these?"

With a flourish, he tipped the sack. A sapphire, a tourmaline, and two rubies clattered onto the table.

Periac's eyes widened and he stroked his goatee in thought. "In truth," he said at last, "you have always impressed me as a clever lad. Perhaps your skill does better reside with another craft."

Alodar waved his hand over the table. "It may well be impressive," he said, "but not enough to turn the head of the fair lady. Here, take one ruby. It is yours for the favors I ask of you. Seek out the shop of the alchemist and use the second to see that he has a decent burial. The sapphire I would have you carry to Cedric the warmaster, in compensation for my not continuing instruction at his hand."

He glanced down at the table and put the tourmaline back into the pouch. "The last I will save," he said, "for I suppose tomorrow I must eat as well. But the true reason for why I am here, master, is because of your knowledge of other than the craft of which you are master." Without waiting for reply, Alodar reached again to his waist and brought forth the small chest. He flipped back the lid and held it forward for Periac's inspection, his eyebrows rising in expectation.

"They are magic," the thaumaturge said without hesitation. "Magic spheres of fine construction."

"Magic," Alodar echoed, squinting at the container. Gingerly he grasped one of the spheres with his gloved hand and found that he could not extract it, so smooth was its surface polish. He removed his glove and tried again with his bare hand. An electric tingling suddenly pulsed through his fingers, and immediately he was reminded of the feeling when he handled Aeriel's dagger. Exerting all the force he could muster to prevent it from slipping away, he slowly pried out one of the orbs and turned it quickly over to gaze at it in his palm.

It was black, totally black, the deepest black Alodar had ever seen. In an indescribable way, it sang of perfection, a sphere of such precision that no mere lathesman could ever hope to duplicate it. His hand vibrated from holding the orb, and somehow he was acutely aware that it contained great power.

Alodar returned the sphere to its resting place and examined its companion in the same way. It was identical to the first, except that a thin line neatly circumscribed it, dividing it into two perfectly equal hemispheres.

Alodar had never seen such handicraft in his life, but there could be no doubt, "Magic," he mumbled as his spirits returned. "Magic spheres somehow placed in a pool of molten lava.

"But what more of them can you tell?" he continued. "Of what use can they be? Surely they have more utility than ornamentation."

"They are incompletely formed," Periac said. "The ritual that has created them is not yet complete. And when it is finished, I cannot fathom what will be their virtue, but to their possessor they will convey great power indeed."

"Power," Alodar muttered and then paused in thought. "At Iron Fist I applied my wits and was bested by skill in arms," he said at last. "In Ambrosia, I learned those skills, but in the end Rendrac's brute force carried back the treasure for the queen. It is raw power I must have to win the day; wits and training are not yet enough.

"Power," he repeated, lightly juggling the small chest in his hand. "My quest leaves me little choice but what I have here. Yes, there can be no other way about it, Either I am defeated or strike to unlock the secret of the spheres and hope it gives me what I will need to win the fair lady."

He popped out of his introspection and looked into Periac's face. "But how can I learn of magic?" he said. "Basil the apothecary did mention dealing with a Lectonil to the south. Perhaps in his guild I will find what I must know."

"He would be as good as any," Periac said. "But from him or any other magician you would learn little. Judge not the manner of instruction of the other crafts from what you know of the nature of thaumaturgy." He glanced at the gems still on the table and stroked his goatee. "And perhaps of alchemy as well. Magicians are a secretive lot, far removed from the dealings of nobles and common men alike. They pass on their rituals only to the initiates and acolytes who pledge lifetimes to their secluded service."

He shook his head and spread his arms wide. "You have experienced the workings of two crafts, Alodar," he said. "Is it not enough? If alchemy is not to your liking, then return to my instruction. To delve now into magic will only compound your folly."

Alodar snapped shut the chest and returned it to his pocket. "Perhaps you are right, master," he said, "and someday I might indeed return to your teachings." He paused and his eyes widened. "But power!" he said. "It is worth giving the random factors another chance to align. Yes, by all means, master, let me profit one more day from your instruction. But tomorrow I will travel south to ferret out the spheres' meaning. Ferret out their meaning in a palace of magicians."